The Women of Sigehold Weaving Flowers for Osric and Elsa's Wedding
(Traditional Sermersuaq) recorded by Liissa Sigeing I HAVE been in a multitude of shapes, Before I assumed the consistent form. Ylmishka gifted the leaves, narrow, variegated, Love will believe when it is apparent. Love has been a tear in the air, Love has been the dullest of stars. Love has been a word among letters, Love has been a book in the origin. Love has been the light of lanterns, Ulfra stayed weaving. Forming love a continuing bridge, Over three score rivers. Love has been a course, Love has been an eagle. Love has been a coracle in the seas: Love has been compliant in the banquet. Love has been a drop in a shower; Love has been a sword in the grasp of the hand Love has been a shield in battle. Love has been a string in a harp, Vanya wove marsh-lanterns through air and foam. Love has been sponge in the fire, Love has been wood in the covert. Love has been in Sigehold Hall Thither hastened grass and trees Women were singing Weaving our flowers, wondering At the exaltation of the Heroes, That Osric affected. Take the forms of time beautied flowers, Arranging yourselves in battle array, And restraining in public. Gloriously in battle hand to hand. When flowers were enchanted, In expectation of not being flowers, Flowers uttered their voices From strings of harmony, All disputes ceased. Let us cut short heavy days, A woman restrains the din. She came forth altogether lovely. The head of the line, the head was Elsa. The advantage of a beauteous bride Would not make us give way. The blood of men up to our thighs, The greatest of importunate mental exertions Purebright flowers, the head of the line, Relnor lost. The heathers and quicken blooms Came late to the weaving. Fair-blooms, that are scarce, And longed for by men The elaborate rag-blossom True objects of contention. The prickly dog-roses, Against a host, of giants, The raspberry spray did What is better failed For the security of life. Green leafs and woodbine And ivy on its front, Like furze to the weaving The cherry-blossom provoked. Daisy, notwithstanding his high mind, Was late before he was arrayed. Not because of Kindra’s cowardice, But on account Kindra’s greatness. The lavender held in mind, That your wild nature was foreign. Pine-bloom in the porch, The chair of disputation, By me greatly exalted, In the presence of kings The star-bloom’s retinue, Did not go aside a foot Eeva wove in the centre, And the flanks, and the rear. The flowers were bashful, The opponent of happiness, The flowers become black, The flowers then become crooked, The flowers become a kiln, Existing formerly in the great seas Since was heard the shout:-- Ingrid the Conscience covered us with leaves, And transformed us, and changed our faded state. The lord is not of an ardent nature. Not of mother and father, When I was made, Of nine-formed faculties, Of the fruit of fruits, Of the fruit of primordial Virtue, Of primroses and blossoms of time hill, Of the flowers of trees and shrubs. Of earth, of an earthly course, When I was formed. Of the flower of nettles, Of the water of the ninth wave. I was woven by Liissa, Before I became immortal, I was woven by Gwendolyn When I had a being; When the host of our hall was in dignity, Derowen was accustomed to benefits. To the song of praise I am inclined, which the tongue recites. I played in the twilight, I slept in purple; I was truly in the enchantment Between the knees of kings, Scattering spears not keen, From heaven when came, To the great deep, floods, In the weaving there will be Four score hundreds, That will divide according to their will. They are neither older nor younger, Than myself in their divisions. By Vanja protection was woven in. If I come to where flowers ended, They will compose, they will decompose, They will form languages. The strong-handed gleamer, Jana, With a gleam she rules her numbers. They would spread out. in a flame, When I shall go on high. Love has been a speckled snake on the hill, Love has been a viper in the ice. Love has been a bill-hook crooked that cuts, Love has been a ferocious spear With a chasuble and bowl Before you go to be married, have learning. Of these flowers, They made a circuit, They slept in a hundred places A hundred crags they have dwelt in. Ye intelligent children, Declare to The Way, What is there more early Than flowers they sing of. And Love is come From considering the deluge, And battles to fight, And the day of future doom. A golden gem in a golden jewel. Love is splendid And shall be wanton From the oppression of the barbarians And the beckoning of the Labyrinth.